Location: Armathane, Capital of Midgard Time: Day 76 After Alec's Arrival
—
It felt good to be back.
The southern gates of Armathane rose like dark stone teeth against a cloudy morning sky. Alec sat atop his horse at the front of the caravan, the chill in the air biting but clear. The road behind them was worn, packed with the evidence of real work: dirt-caked wheels, carts half-loaded with wrapped gear, field-tested tools, half-repaired boots, and men and women who looked like they'd earned sleep they hadn't taken.
There was no fanfare.
But people noticed.
As they passed the outlying villas and trade wards, heads turned. Merchants paused at stalls. Children pointed. Whispers followed them like wind around corners.
"That's him."
"I heard he fixed glendale in days."
Alec heard it all, but didn't react. His eyes stayed on the road. His back straight. His hands steady on the reins. If he was tired, he didn't show it. His coat, though simple, was clean. The heavy wool cloak stitched at the edges bore no sigil, but its precision said enough.
He looked like a man who didn't need a title to be taken seriously.
The walls gave way, and Armathane's main causeway opened before them—stone-lined, crowded, alive. The capital still carried its weight in symbols, from the sunburst insignias flying above the merchant towers to the guards posted at every major thoroughfare. But today, Alec wasn't interested in the city's pride.
He was watching for its pulse.
Movement. Noise. Attention. And beneath it all, something harder to define—pressure. Midgard's eyes were opening wider.
At the inner gate, a voice called out.
"Master Alec, you are expected."
He looked up.
Lady Serina stood at the base of the palace arch, flanked by two honor guards, her riding cloak tossed casually over one shoulder, hands behind her back.
She was not wearing royal colors. Instead, she wore plain navy wool lined with fur at the collar, and soft boots instead of court shoes. Her hair was loosely tied, and she looked more like a traveling scholar than the daughter of a duchess.
But the moment their eyes met, it was clear who stood in command.
Alec dismounted, handing his reins to a stable hand. The other engineers followed suit, exchanging glances but saying nothing.
"Lady Serina," he said with a short nod.
"Master Alec," she replied. "You made it back. Successful. Most people don't come back from the south with striding in confidence and heads held up high."
"Probably, guess I am most people,"
"Isn't it much of a burden for the duchess daughter to be the welcoming party of a common man." he added.
She smiled in return. "I volunteered. Mother won't it, But i can be very persuasive"
"Seems so"
"I am honored to be welcomed by you" he said bowing slightly.
She didn't reply but nodded.
She turned to and dismissed the waiting engineers
She then gestured for him to walk with her and turned.
They passed beneath the arch.
—
The palace's west wing had changed.
Not in structure—it remained as sharply maintained as ever—but in tone. The guards watched Alec less with suspicion now, and more with a cautious curiosity. The servants moved more quickly, and none blocked his path.
Alec noticed the way Serina let the silence stretch between them as they walked. She didn't fill the space with idle words. She waited.
Eventually, she said, "You'll dine with us tonight."
"With you and the duchess?"
"Yes. Private. Just us."
"Very well."
"Do you drink?"
"I drink things that don't kill me."
Serina smirked. "Then we'll serve the duchess's wine lightly."
He glanced at her. "And you? Are you there as a political observer or as the duchess's daughter?"
"Both. Always."
—
The banquet hall they used wasn't one of the formal venues. It was the winter hall—a lower, cozier room with a central hearth, long curved windows, and a circular table that could seat maybe ten. Tonight, only three seats were set.
Alec was ushered in after a brief pause outside. He'd changed into a cleaner tunic—dark brown, fitted, plain—but refused the offered court cloak. He would not be draped in another's colors yet.
Vaelora was already seated when he entered, flanked by scrolls she hadn't bothered to clear. Serina sat to her left, picking at a bowl of dates.
"Master Alec," Vaelora said, not rising. "It seems I owe you a congratulations."
"I delivered what I promised."
"That's rarer than it should be."
Alec sat at the opposite end of the table without waiting to be told. The guards behind the doors didn't move.
"I read the reports," Vaelora said. "I will say i am impressed but can it stand the test of time?"
He nodded once. "It will sustain if maintained. The rest depends on follow-through from the local administration."
"It will receive it."
The food was brought in without ceremony—roasted partridge, root mash, greens, light wine. Serina poured herself a modest glass. Alec took water.
"Do you know," Vaelora said mid-meal, "that three different nobles requested to audit the Grendale docks after your return?"
"I didn't."
"They did. One said it was to offer support. Another to investigate building practices. The third?" She smiled faintly. "He asked if you were recruiting commoners into a militia."
"I'm not."
"I told him that if you were, you'd do it with better discipline than half his house's garrison."
Serina snorted into her wine.
Alec remained still. "You don't seem alarmed."
"I expected worse," Vaelora said. "And I have use for loyalty that isn't bought with feasts."
"Then we understand each other."
She leaned forward slightly.
"Do we?"
Alec held her gaze. "You want someone who builds power that doesn't threaten yours."
"I want someone who builds Midgard into something no one dares test."
He didn't look away. "Then we agree. For now."
"Then let me be clear."
Vaelora set her cup down. "I offer you continued support. Resources. Lands..." she paused.
Alec nodded. "And I will give you results. Innovations. Territory shaped by intent, not inheritance. But I won't kneel unless it's worth the posture."
Silence.
Then Serina said, "So… this is your way of saying you like each other?"
They both glanced at her.
She shrugged. "Just clarifying."
Vaelora smiled slightly. "This is politics, Serina. It's more reliable than affection."
Alec picked up his cup. "But just as fragile."
—
Later that evening, as Alec walked the palace garden paths alone, Serina joined him without a word.
He slowed.
"So," she said casually, "you're famous now."
"Seems it was inevitable."
They walked for a few more steps.
Then she asked, "Do you remember what you said to me before you left?"
"I said I wanted to understand the world. That started with Grendale."
"And now?"
"Now I want to shape it."
Serina didn't answer right away.
Finally, she said, "My mother likes you. That's rare."
"I'm useful to her."
"No. She's had useful before. She beginning to trust you."
Alec looked at her. "Do you?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I want to. That's something."
They stopped near the old eastern fountain—long dry, its marble stained from years of disuse.
Alec looked at it.
"I'll rebuild that," he said.
"Why?"
"Because it's broken. And because it matters to someone."
She didn't say thank you.
But she smiled.
"Take a few days to rest"
"I would like to show you around the castle properly since you might be staying for a while" she continued.
"Sure, would be my pleasure" Alec replied, He'd never rejected any opportunity to learn about the place that would be his home for the foreseeable future.
"But make that tomorrow instead, I don't require that much time to rest"
"Great, I will send a maidservant to get you then."
"Have a good day's rest then." she added.
And with that she walked away.
Alec stared at her as she walked away observing her gait and movements until she was out of his sight.